


Insert Title Here

by crystalmoonvibe



Category: The Untitled
Genre: Adventure, FTM, Fantasy, LGBT, Transgender, fan fiction, femaltomale, lgbtq+
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:28:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23047015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalmoonvibe/pseuds/crystalmoonvibe
Summary: Stuck in a world that he is all too familiar with yet so foreign to all at the same time Decha must find a way to escape and return home.Which sounds easy, if you're like him and have no title. He could write his own story, his own happy ending where he gets to live "happily ever after" and ride off into the sunset with the love of his life, or his band of misfit friends.Of course, it would be that easy to do, if he knew even an inkling about how to write a story.





	1. 1. Small But Thankful

The wind bellowed outside making the small house rattle as though they were maracas. Inside the small lounge room, the embers in the fireplace crackled, a wisp of a flame trying to start on what little fuel it had left.  
A woman sat on the small lounge, her posture perfect as she stared up at the girl in front of her.

"Dechtere, young ladies don't cut their hair off. What kind of example are you trying to set for your younger brother?" the woman's voice was soft but her tone was harsh, full of anger and spite.

Dechtere gritted his teeth, "A better one than you, or father," he exclaimed, standing his ground.

"Listen here young lady, don't you-"

He whipped around to face his father, taking two strides across the shaggy carpet to stand in front of his father, anger searing across his eyes like an unkept flame, "I. am. not. a. lady." he stated, stressing each word.

His father stood up straight, standing just a tad taller than him, "You were born my little girl and you will always be a _young lady_. No amount of boys clothing or short hair will change that Dechtere," his father dismissed him with a nod before turning his attention back to the glasses of alcohol he was pouring.

Dechtere crossed his arms over his chest, "You've got nothing else to say to me, do you mother?" the question asked with the knowledge that his mother had a list of things to comment on about him and his belief, but the only noise that came from her was the squeak of the lounge as she shifted her sitting position.

Dechtere tapped his arm a few times before uncrossing them, "That's what I thought," with a roll of his eyes he strode across the room, not even an echo following him as his feet met the wooden floorboards.

He exited the room, closing the door quietly behind him, letting out a sigh he strode to the stairs.

"Mother and father giving you a hard time again Dee?" his gaze travelled to the landing on the staircase, where a young boy with blue hair sat cross-legged with his elbow resting on his knee and his chin on his palm.

"As usual, they don't like me, you know how it is Cameron," Dechtere said, making his way up to the boy, ruffling his hair.

Cameron titled his head, "Why don't they love you like me?" he asked, not expecting an answer from his older brother.

Dechtere shook his head, still not used to the feeling of no hair swishing along his back, "Because I'm not "right". I'm a disgrace to their reputation," he explained, running his finger along the banister, dust collecting on his finger.

Cameron opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the words to respond before simply rolling his eyes and springing up, "Will you tell me a story? I always love your stories, they're always so much fun!"

Dechtere shook his head, wiping his finger on his jeans, "Alright squirt, let's go," he continued up the stairs, Cameron following behind him.

Once they both reached the top of the staircase, Cameron pushed past Dechtere, rushing a few steps down the hallway into his room.

Dechtere chuckled, following his brother. Once he got to the room he entered, seeing his brother already laying on the single bed in the far corner of the room.

"What story would you like to hear today? A new one, or an old one?" he sat on the edge of the bed at his brother's feet.

Cameron made a face like he was thinking, "Oo, oo, the one about the girl pirate who has to dress as a boy to hide her identity and fate," he started bouncing up and down out of excitement, almost launching Dechtere on the floor.

Clutching the end of the bed, Dechtere cleared his throat causing the younger boy to stop his bouncing.

Cameron stopped, looking down, "Sorry," he mumbled, laying down.

"Don't worry. Okay, the pirate girl, what was her name again? I never remember," the lie spilled out of his mouth, but he did it just to watch how his brother reacted.

"Robin, her name is Robin," Cameron replied, fidgeting with his blanket.

"Robin, Robin...Rob-"

"She's the daughter of the local tavern owner who wants more from life than to just cleaning tables and serving Ale or Rum."

_So he does listen,_ "Robin, right. So once there was a young lady with bright red hair, she worked at her father's tavern right by the port. The tavern was famous over the seven seas,"

Cameron snuggled down into his covers.

"One cool summer evening, a big ship pulled into the port, the flag flying atop the mast bearing a skull and crossbones. Out of the ship poured at least 30 men with anything from a sword to a gun strapped to their bodies. Into the tavern they flocked, filling to the brim with noise. Robin stood behind the bar serving Ale to most of the men, her long red hair tied up with a small white ribbon, her dress went down to just above her ankles. She seemed to glide across the floor as she served the ragged men her heart yearned more to be free, the many amazing stories that she heard that night as the men told the patrons of the tavern of their travels.   
As it got close to the time where many of the men were too drunk to know where they were, Robin offered to help the captain and a couple more of his crew escort their fellow crewmates back to the ship. After they had finished moving the men, the captain thanked Robin then dismissed her, " a small snore caught Dechtere's attention, he glanced down to see Cameron asleep.

A small smile crept across his face as he tucked the younger boy in, as quietly as he could he exited the room and made his way to his own.

Every time Dechtere entered his room a thought ran through his mind, _for a bunch of socialites, you'd think that they'd be able to afford a bigger house so that we could have bigger rooms._   
"A small room is better than no room," he reminded himself out aloud. Squeezing between the end of his bed and the desk chair, he got to the bookshelf. Running his fingers along the spines of the books, pulling out one of the books he stared fondly at the cover.

"Why can't life be an adventure like it is for you Charlie?" he said absent-mindedly, pacing back towards the desk, he pulled the chair out as far as he could, squeezing into the gap between the chair and the desk, he placed the book on the table, flipping the cover open.


	2. 2. Be Careful What You Wish For

Getting lost in a world of fantasy, Dechtere seemed to ignore all his surroundings. He could sit for hours upon hours reading and not feel the slightest bit tired, this was one of those occasions. It was very early in the evening when he had put his brother to bed and picked up the novel from his shelf, but now he was rudely shocked by a hand slamming on his desk.

"Young lady, have you done any of your homework or were you planning on not sleeping at all tonight?" his father's voice boomed in his ears.

Dechtere jumped, almost feeling out of his seat, "Of-of course I've finished my homework father. Do you think that I'd want to disgrace your _fragile_ reputation any more than my existence already does?" he retorted, taking note of the page number before closing the novel.

His father crossed his arms over his chest, leaning down over him, trying to intimidate him, "So what? Were you planning to just read until it was time to leave for school?"

Dechtere rolled his eyes, _moron, try and be active more in your own children's lives. Oh, wait, that's right, your reputation and social status are more important._ "Father, if you even bothered to get to know me every once in a while, you'd know that it is currently exam time. The only homework I have to do is studying, which I do every afternoon, between one and two-forty-five pm before I meet up with Cameron and his friend Celeste to walk Cel home. Then we go to the park for half-an-hour and then we come home. I help Cam with his homework and then I cook dinner for both of us. On the odd occasion that you and mother return home, we may sit with you sometimes but normally we will sit in front of the fire and read together until it's time for Cameron to go to bed. I will tell him a story and then return to my room and read." he explained his daily routine as simply as he could, hoping his father would understand it and not ask any more questions.

_Hmph_ was the only noise to come from the older male as he uncrossed his arms, "Very well, what are you reading anyway, probably some lame fantasy like normal," his father jabbed, snatching the book off the desk.

"Hey, be careful with-"

"This? Again? Dechtere when are you going to grow up? Life isn't some fantasy novel about a stupid girl who wants to rebel against her guardians and go on adventures and make her own story. We are each given a story to follow when we are born, there is no changing that. How many times are you going to read this book before I have to burn the stupid thing? Actually, how many times have you read this book? Ten times? Twenty?" his tone was full of hatred.

_What's wrong with him? Why is he taking his anger out on me and this book?_ Dechtere stayed quiet, trying to figure out his father's seething hatred for a story he'd most likely never even read. Let alone understood the storyline in the slightest.

"Answer me, you nuisance of a child, or I'll go and burn the book now." the tone in his father's voice let Dechtere know that this was not a joke. the tone was harsh, stern and demanding all at once.

"I've read the book eleven times father," he feared the response he would receive for his over exacerbation of the one-story when he had so many others to chose from. his shelf was lined to the brim with all kinds of books, from fantasies to mysteries, novels to novellas, even a few short stories compiled into books. but something always drew him back to reading this one.

If life were fantasy, Dechtere knew one thing for sure. Steam would probably be streaming from his father's ears, his face had turned bright red and Dechtere wasn't sure whether it was out of anger, disgust or disappointment.

"Eleven! Young lady, you waste your time on one novel when we buy you hundreds of books and could buy you hundreds more if we wanted to? No wonder you never want to socialise with anyone you're too busy reading this stupid book. I bet, I bet this book is the reason for your wanting to be 'Trans'. Hell, I should go and burn this book, you are lucky that we put the fireplace out, otherwise, I may have just gone and done that. You will not get this book back," his father shoved the book under his arm, bending the cover.

Dechtere's eyes widened in shock and horror, a stab of anger shot right through his stomach like a dagger, "no, be careful with that book!" were the only words he managed to get out of his mouth. His eyes started to itch as he fought back tears, _no, I can't let him see me cry. That will show him that he's won and gotten the better of me._

"The book, _the book._ Listen to how pathetic you sound Dechtere, begging that I be careful with something that can easily be replaced. It's just a bunch of paper. Get over yourself. until you become more sociable and likable I am confiscating this book. Either find something else to read or be a normal nineteen-year-old and socialise with people," with a dismissive nod, his father turned and marched out of his room, slamming the door behind him.

Once he was sure his father had gone, Dechtere broked down, burying his head in his arms on his desk, a tear rolled down his cheek. His brain was unable to figure out whether he should be angry, sad or annoyed. He knew one thing for sure, he hated his father, now more than ever.

_No, don't let him win. He WANTS you to be angry or sad or annoyed, don't let him,_ he reminded himself. Picking his head up, he wiped away the tear. "Decha, you are a nineteen-year-old boy with a big enough emotional coping range to combat his stupidity. Take a couple of breaths and let it go," he muttered to himself, pushing the chair back and squeezing back out of the small space. Taking a couple of strides, he managed to get to the small space in his room where he could, as his mother would say, move around freely. Pacing the small area in his room, he let his thoughts tire themselves out.

After what he could only guess was another hour, Dechtere had calmed down enough to try and get some sleep, pacing over to his bed, he laid down. Staring at the ceiling, the last thing that he remembered crossing his mind, _I wish that my life was more like the fun adventures Charlie seems to go on_ before sleep washed over him as a wave washes across the shore.


End file.
